


Bloody Revelation

by Dori



Category: Buffy the Vampire Slayer
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Buffy is a Bitch, F/M, dead things
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2006-01-31
Updated: 2006-01-31
Packaged: 2017-11-11 07:59:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,059
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/476333
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dori/pseuds/Dori
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Buffy's not worried about Spike.  She's not.  Even if she had left him too broken to move, with the sun coming up in a couple hours.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Bloody Revelation

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: Not mine. Just playing with them, I'll put them back when I'm done.  
> Note: I was REALLY unhappy with Buffy at the end of "Dead Things"...

She wasn't going there to check on him. She wasn't. The fact that she hadn't seen him in two days, since that awful night at the police station, had nothing to do with why she was walking up to his crypt just before sunset, when she knew he'd be home. It had nothing to do with the fact that she'd wakened in the middle of the night, sweating, a scream curdling in her throat, from another dream of staking Spike as they made love. ( _Had sex_ , one part of her mind insisted, what they did was not making love, it was only having sex.) It had nothing to do with the feel of his cock suddenly crumbling to ash inside her. Nothing at all.

_An animal, he'd called her, and she'd denied it, of course, but when she found herself straddling him there on the filthy pavement of the alley, his face already swelling and bruised and bleeding, when she realized that he'd never even raised a hand to stop her from beating him raw, when he looked up at her and forgave her for breaking his entire face, for hurting him until he looked like the thing she kept saying he was..._

She shuddered. He'd barely been able to turn over, and she'd left him lying there. How close had it been to sunrise, then? A couple of hours? And she had left him there, never even thinking to check the alley when she left the station. Only hours until daybreak, and he could barely move.

But of course he'd gotten out of the alley. He must have; she'd gone back there, after her breakdown with Tara, and found no dust, none of the heavy jewelry he'd taken to wearing lately. He'd gotten out of the alley, and gone home to his crypt, and he'd stayed the hell away from her for two days.

Which was a good thing, she told herself firmly. Because she didn't need him whining at her about how she'd been stupid to try to turn herself in when Dawn needed her so much. Even if he was right without knowing it.

But everything had worked out fine. She wasn't a killer--well a human killer, anyway--and now that they knew that Warren was behind Katrina's death, maybe she could pump him for...for information, because he'd had Warren build that disgusting Buffybot, after all; he was bound to know something useful.

Yes, that was it; she was here for information about Warren, and not because she missed the sex, missed the way his hands felt on her skin, in her hair, missed his mouth, all cool, or his hard body, or the gentle kisses he dropped on her hair when he thought she was asleep. And she _definitely_ was not here because she was worried about him.

The sun's dying rays slanted through the trees and the tombstones, falling like a lover's caress on the door of the crypt. She stepped up to it, laid her hand on it, just the way she'd done that night, hesitating. She really should just burst in, as she always did. This was business, Slayer business, and maybe hot sex afterward, and that was all. But she waited, hoping he would come to the door and open it, find her there, and then...

She shifted on the stone portico, and something moved underneath her foot. She scuffed at it, thinking it was a loose stone, but it rang when it struck the slab that served as threshold. She looked down, puzzled. Stones didn't make that kind of noise.

It wasn't a stone. It was a massive silver ring. Beside it were a heavy chain necklace, fastened, and a couple more rings, all silver. They were coated with a thick layer of dust, and Buffy's heart rose up in her throat, pounding so loud in her ears that she couldn't hear anything else. She knelt down, picking up the ring she'd trod on, turning it over in her hands.

It was slippery with dust. She rubbed at the top, trying to clean it a little. It seemed awfully familiar. So did the chain and the other rings. Her legs began to tremble, then to shake, and she dropped to her knees. She picked up the chain, and the heft of it in her hand was also familiar. She began to pant, short, shallow breaths that didn't bring her enough oxygen, and black stars began to explode behind her eyes.

It was Spike's chain.

The last time they had had sex ( _made love_ , whispered part of her mind), in his crypt, she had teased him about it, running her fingers underneath it. "Don't you ever take this thing off?" she'd asked him, because it was the only thing he was wearing. He'd just laughed, that deep, stomach-clenching laugh, and pulled her down on top of him. His eyes had flared gold as she twitched in his grip so that she came down over his cold, hard cock, and hissed in a breath as she closed around him.

"God, Buffy," he groaned, reaching up to touch her cheek, and for a moment he'd let his love for her show in his face. It had been so strong that she couldn't bear it, and she kissed him fiercely, closing her eyes and thrusting her tongue into his mouth as he thrust inside her, as his hands splayed against her back to press her closer. She'd felt the weight of the ring on his finger as he held her tight enough to leave bruises.

The memory of the look in his eyes had made her come, made her bite her tongue to keep from crying out that she felt that kind of love too, around her and inside her and going out of her in surges, and keeping the words in made her come harder, made her scream. The look on his face as he watched her was what she saw in the mirror when she remembered being in Heaven.

She looked at her hands, covered with ashy dust, at the ring and the chain covered with the same dust.

"Spike?" she said, her voice barely a thread of sound, and then she buried her face in her hands, in all that was left of him on her hands, and sobbed.


End file.
